Tag Archives: college

Secret Cookie in my Pocket

Give me a book and the cookie. Spare me the class.

I didn’t read the book for class, but I did have a secret chocolate chip cookie in my pocket. Whereas the rest of the class intended to mire themselves in the angst of post-modernity, I intended to wait for a little bit and then eat my cookie.

Oh it was going to be delicious. It was by far the best cookie in the classroom, possibly the best in Cairo, and a certain contender for the best cookie in all space and time. Its buttery taste, the fluffy yet chewy texture of the crumb, the chocolateyness of the chocolate chips….yes, bringing this cookie to school was likely the best decision I was going to make all week.

The class begins and my eyes instantly glaze over. I am already far from this place, my mind slowly orbiting around three topics: “I have a cookie in my pocket. How will I make it in San Francisco? I need to do laundry today.”

As if through a window, I see the professor in front of me yammering about something, the other students nodding in agreement. I find myself doing the same, compelled by a primal instinct that forces the human to avoid scolding by pretending to listen.

Group work is vicious, dragging me to back to the classroom to offer my own fabricated insights. This is difficult to do because of the cookie distraction. One day the students will turn on me, pointing their fingers at me and saying in unison, “This one sucks.” But that day is not today. The work ends, and we return to our own worlds that are supposed to revolve around the professor and whatever she’s saying. I go back to thinking about the cookie.

My stomach growls and I know the moment has come.

I remove the cookie from my pocket, its tender body protected from my coat pocket by a thick layer of foil. As I unwrap it gently the foil yields forth its precious burden. The student next to me gasps.

I know what she is thinking. Yes, this is a chocolate chip cookie baked fresh from my kitchen. Yes, it is America itself contained in a bit of flour, butter, and sugar, and it is likely the most valuable thing at the university at this time. It is mine, and I’m going to eat it now, and as the crumbs dissolve on my lips, I too will dissolve away from here and from this classroom where words are being said about the novel I didn’t read, the point of which only the author could understand.

This cookie, however, I understand. Why couldn’t the author write something more like it?

P.S. You should try “The Chewy Recipe” for your cookies, courtesy of dude Alton Brown. They are very delicious and better than homework.

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In Theory, I Hate This Class

Education only works if someone cares

Professor —–,

The following is a hypothetical situation, but I think you’ll find it helpful in understanding my performance in class and how we can work together for our mutual benefit.

Let’s say I’m taking a class, the purpose of which is to equip me with a certain skill. For this exercise, let’s call the class “Literary Analysis in Arabic.” This class, like any class, is built upon the relationships between the student, the professor, and the material. In order for the class to successfully equip me to analyze literature in Arabic, one of several scenarios must happen (combinations are also possible):

A) I enjoy the professor and want to excel in order to make her proud.

B) I am passionate about Arabic literature and as such am driven to do well for the love of the material alone.

C) I am a mindless slave to grades and would sacrifice everything in order to get an A, regardless of my relationship to the professor or the material.

However, in this theoretical class, something interesting has (theoretically) happened. Not only do I not enjoy the professor, but I am also not particularly interested in the material, which is made up primarily of reading novels in Arabic, an act that takes grotesque amounts of time. Indeed, in theory, I determined while sitting in the very first session of this theoretical class that my time was better spent elsewhere doing something I enjoy and find useful instead of honing this skill which will likely go unused in the future and wasn’t all that lucrative to begin with, personally and financially.

At this theoretical juncture, it is clear that I’m not motivated to excel by the material itself or the professor, who theoretically I find overbearing yet absent. The only thing left to compel me to do well in this hypothetical course would be the promise of a good grade, a letter on a scrap of future-trash that means nothing to the rest of the world and to me would only signify the hours I wasted earning a clearly meaningless letter. Actually, I have theoretically found grades irrelevant and am no longer motivated by them.

Indeed, the only reason I have to continue attending this theoretical class is the desire to avoid personal embarrassment complete withdrawal might cause in addition to administrative issues that are not related to the subject matter or professor. In short, my theoretical motto for this class is, “I’m here but not interested. Please do not disturb.”

For that reason, the lackluster professor should theoretically avoid doing things like assigning a surprise presentation and then adding with a flourish that it will be done, “for a grade,” because theoretically I would sense a challenge. “What if I just didn’t do it? What if I just sat here and stared? Will you fail me? FAIL ME ALREADY!”

So in theory we should avoid doing that. But there’s nothing to say this theoretical situation could be a positive experience, with each one left with less work to do and more time to do the things she loves. In theory, this could be the best of every world.

Thanks for taking the time to hypothesize with me, Professor —–. If you have any questions please let me know. See you in class tomorrow!

Photo Credit: Grant Cochrane at freedigitalphotos.net

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So You Want to Take a Nap in the Student Lounge

This could be you, minus the shoes

You stayed up late last night even though it was a school night. All signs point to an extreme deficit of z-power: your body has forgotten how to digest food, speech is difficult, and you feel like you’ve drunk unicorn blood and are only half-alive. At school, all you can think about is how close to death you feel even as the end of class seems so far away. Despite your best efforts, it appears that no amount of doodling will save you from dozing off in class in front of your less sleepy colleagues.

Fear not. You have a 45 minute break coming up right at 12:00, and you know exactly what you must do. It’s time to get your student-lounge nap on. A nap in the student lounge is a great way to wrinkle your shirt and put creases on your face while also being refreshed by much needed REM sleep. Here ‘s some advice about how you can make your student lounge nap a positive experience for yourself and those around you.

a. Remember that you will be stared at. With this in mind, try to sleep in a funny position in order to further the laughter that will be had at your expense. If going with the flow doesn’t appeal to you, you could put a bag over your face or write a polite note that says “I can see you too.” Generally people like concise, terse notes.

b. Be as suspicious as possible about your nap. Though you are not ashamed of the fact you are napping in a public location, do not mention it to anyone and lie if anyone asks you what you’re doing. Disguise your nap by setting up a magazine, book, or scroll in such a position that you could be reading it. This step is especially helpful for fooling people from behind.

c. Take your shoes off. If you’re comfortable, everyone else is comfortable. People love nothing more than seeing bare feet on public furniture.

d. Set an alarm. If you’re really serious about napping, this is a step that can’t be missed. The alternative is either sleeping through class, or waking up to an acquaintance poking you as you hurry to brush the drool off your face before getting up groggily and then going to class where you say wildly inappropriate things because of your sleepy stupor.

e. Don’t forget that it’s okay to drool, snore, twitch, babble, sleep stalk, and sleep steal. Do everything you would normally do at home or in the doctor’s office. Your colleagues should accept you for who you are, especially in the human state that most closely resembles death.

f. If you have dreams, tell everyone about them. Dreams are great conversation starters, and they will be especially interesting for people who were not necessarily in your dream, but in the same room as you while you were dreaming.

g. Last but not least: have fun! Make this naptime yours! Personalize it! Bring a little nap kit next time or tiny commemorative pillows for everyone who was there! If you don’t get it right the first time, don’t worry! There is no doubt you will be foolish enough to stay up to the wee hours of the morning for no good reason on a school night again.

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